


Muscles and Milkshakes

by TabithaJean



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:22:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24929884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabithaJean/pseuds/TabithaJean
Summary: Prompt from @Frangipanidownunder on Tumblr: season 1, Mulder invites Scully to work out with him.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Muscles and Milkshakes

**‘Y** ou should come with me tomorrow.’

‘To the gym? No thank you.’ She packed her briefcase and stood up, brushing her skirt. ‘I don’t need a pity workout.’

‘Not a pity workout.’ Mulder was reclined, feet on the desk, hands behind his head. Friday settled early in their office, its languor tempting them to a long lunch and an unproductive afternoon. ‘You just said your friend cancelled brunch. What else are you going to do? Your laundry?’

‘I have my own gym, Mulder. It’s only three blocks from my apartment.’

‘Ok, then. Suit yourself.’ She paused, eyes on the desk. He’d called her bluff, and despite herself, she wanted to accept. They had started going for a drink on a Thursday evening, and she enjoys peeling back his layers, learning who Mulder is when he’s not at work. He has the same enthusiasm for new information, the same light-hearted cynicism, but she takes pleasure in trying to make him laugh, to see his shoulders relax.

‘Are you buying brunch afterwards?’ She wheedled.

‘I know the best place for waffles.’ He smiled at her capitulation, throwing his tie over his shoulder. ‘It’s settled. I’ll leave a pass for you at the reception.’

*

She scans the large room and sees only silhouettes against the floor to ceiling windows. Rows of bikes, rows of treadmills, everyone staring at the tv screens suspended from the middle of the ceiling. It’s like a cult, she thinks defensively as she looks for Mulder. She acclimates to the familiar scent of recycled, sweat-laden air and steps on a treadmill. Her chest is still tender, yellow and brown, from the slug she took at the cello recital last week, and she sets the speed at comfortably hard. Still no Mulder. She runs, keeping alert for the sight for a tall figure, slender face, surprisingly broad shoulders.

Three miles and twenty-two intense minutes later, she sees a small door to the side of the gym from which mostly men emerge. She pushes it to find a weights room full of equipment and a higher level of intensity than the cardio room. It immediately takes her back to her training at Quantico, when she was desperate prove herself among the boys.

She spies Mulder with his back to her at the lat pull-down machine. His grey, sleeveless t-shirt is soaked with sweat. Scully allows herself a minute to watch the way his triceps crystallise and soften like beating heartbeats, admiring the way his lats play peek-a-boo from his wide t-shirt sleeve holes as he pulls the bar down. When they were in Alaska, she had glanced through the little peep hole of his room to see him doing burpees. She’d stared then too, hypnotised by the rhythm and the shock of being confronted with work-out Mulder as opposed to her suited, curious and engaging work colleague. He’s cute. She knows that. But she’d never dared to dig any deeper than that. The memory of those burpees, and of his smooth, solid back as she’d checked him, had sat with her, germinating, and she found herself paying more attention whenever he rolled his sleeves up as they worked together in their cramped, stuffy office.

He finishes his set and reaches for the towel, the movement bringing Scully back to herself. She feels voyeuristic, embarrassed, and blushes as he spots her.

‘You made it!’ He smiles, wiping his face and arms, and she purposefully looks at his mouth.

‘I’ve been here a while. I didn’t know this room was even here.’

‘I’m sorry, I should have said.’ She shakes her head and grins at him, finally looking at his eyes. He drinks and slowly drags his wrist across his wet lips. ‘Are you up for some weights?’

‘I don’t really know what I’m doing… I have free weights at home, but nothing like this.’ She hates feeling like a novice. He walks her over to the leg press.

‘Let’s start with this,’ he suggests. She lies on the reclined chair while he adjusts the weights. He is gentle and considered as he checks the equipment is suitable. ‘Ok, you want to push to extend your legs and then control the weight as you bend your knees again.’

She pushes and finds the movement smooth and satisfying.

‘That looks too easy, Scully.’ He takes the pin out and selects more weights. Her quads burn as she extends her legs, and tremble slightly as she bends her knees.

‘Mulder! What did you do that for?’

‘Can’t make it too easy for you. You can go nice and deep.’

‘What?’ Scully asks, pushing the weights sharply so her legs lock when they extend. She is suddenly breathless and warm.

‘You have great hip flexor mobility. The motion here,’ he guides his hand along her hip, ‘means you can let the weights go nice and low.’

‘Oh. I thought you meant –‘ she stops suddenly, feeling stupid. ‘Never mind. I’m just not as familiar with all this.’

‘Don’t worry, you’re doing great,’ Mulder murmurs, his eyes full of approval as she counts ten reps. She sits up, light-headed from moving too quickly, and wipes her damp forehead with her towel. She’s been caught off-guard. She can’t look at him as he reclines, moving the seat for his long legs, and selecting more weight. She is thirsty; she wants some water.

His quads harden as his legs extend. Thick veins run up his shins as if his body struggles to contain the energy that defines him. He is all motion to her, when he’s in her thoughts unconsciously, unbidden, it’s always as a dynamic, chaotic force of energy. He revives her, he crawls into her settled corners and whips them up into action. She realises with a shock that his impact on her is physical as well as intellectual. She frizzles when he’s near. God, it’s _so clear_ , ever since Alaska, and she realises that she’s in trouble. 

‘Shhhhhit!’ Mulder suddenly hisses, and immediately relaxes his legs. His face contort and he rubs his hamstring.

‘Mulder what’s wrong? Are you ok?’ She crouches beside him, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he clenches them shut. Concern pushes aside her lightbulb moment, and she snaps back into their routine. 

‘I’m fine,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘It’s nothing, I just pulled my hamstring.’

‘That’s what you get for using 25 pounds more than usual,’ a beefy man offers from the machine next to them. ‘What you trying to pull, Mulder? You showing off to your pretty friend here?’

‘Shut up, Collins,’ Mulder says as he stands delicately. ‘The weights were fine.’

‘Sure they were,’ Collins jokes. ‘I mean, you’ve never gone that heavy before. But sure, it wasn’t the weight.’

Scully hides a smile as Mulder starts to hobble to the changing room. Maybe she didn’t make a fool out of herself after all.

*

The waitress brings their milkshakes and tells them their waffles won’t be long. The room shines golden with an endorphin tint, and Scully chuckles with amusement as Mulder gives himself brain freeze from the milkshake.

‘Why do you always jump straight in, Mulder?’ She asks. She is fresh and cool from her shower. When she looks directly at his eyes, butterflies flap against her rib cage. When she sees the faint tension of his triceps against his shirt, her stomach pools and her legs tingle. Oh she’s definitely in over her head, but back in her clothes, in the layers of t shirt and slacks, she feels better armed. Her self-control is such that she can keep this secret to herself. ‘Why don’t you just hit pause for a minute?’

‘Life’s too short to stand on the sidelines, Scully.’ He chews his plastic straw. ‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.’

‘Go hard or go home.’

‘Exactly. You have to risk it to get the biscuit.’

‘Nut up or shut up.’ He raises his eyebrows, impressed.

‘ _Very good,_ Scully.’ She smiles, basking in the post-exercise high. It feels like they’re in a snow globe. She sucks her straw, and the milkshake is cold and creamy on her tongue.


End file.
